For Each Day
by HollyBush
Summary: Every day that meant anything had to do with her. Fiyeraba.


**For Each Day**

**A/N: This little drabble is my first fanfic in years. And it's the very first in this fandom as well. I'm terrified :)**

**Disclaimer: Nothing Wicked-related is mine, except for the soundtracks. I'm just playing. All hail Gregory Maguire and Stephen Schwartz!**

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><p>It was all her.<p>

Every single day that he remembered, every single day that he knew meant something, anything, was to do with her. Every single memory that was part of the road he'd gone from boy to man, a short road really, had her in it.

His first day at Shiz, which wasn't his first first day at a school he was about to be kicked out of. It wasn't the first time he'd arrived late to a new school, not the first time he'd arrived late _and_hung-over, not the first time he'd said goodbye to Avaric, joking about his upcoming expulsion. Not even the first time his carriage had hit something, someone, while he was sleeping it off. It _had_been the first time a girl had yelled at him. Girls fluttered their eyelids, smiled coyly and flirted. When they didn't get what they wanted, they pouted, cried and sobbed. They didn't yell. Angrily. At _him_. This one did. It was the first time a girl had yelled at him.

The day he realized there were people who went their own way. Who didn't care what others thought of them. Or at least didn't care enough to change who they were in order to fit in. It was the day that the same green girl who had yelled at him, had stepped into the Ozdust ballroom, in an ill-fitting dress and a ridiculous hat, only to have everyone sniggering at her.

Pointing at her. Laughing.

But instead of running, like any other student would have done, like he would have done, she'd put her hat back on with a determined look on her face and started dancing. By herself. In front of _everyone._ He would have liked to been able to say he'd had wanted to step forward, to dance with her, to save her from the embarrassment. But he wasn't and he hadn't and he didn't.

He'd simply stood and stared at her. Not because she was green, not because of that ridiculous hat but because she stood there, alone, and she danced. He couldn't help thinking, in that moment, that she was the single bravest person he'd ever met.

Galinda had stepped forward then, to dance with her. And he'd been relieved. Relieved that she wasn't alone anymore, relieved the awkward moment was over, relieved that she frowned at him when Galinda had introduced them. It returned everything to normalcy. Little had he known normalcy would never return to his life.

The day he'd arrived in class, only slightly late, to see that one of the very few spots still unoccupied was the one next to her. That day he'd seen what it meant to be different because nobody sat next to her, ever, when Galinda wasn't there.

That day he'd headed for that spot without paying attention to the other empty spots that people were kind enough to point out to him. That day he'd once again been on the receiving end of one of her frowns. That day he realized he was okay with that. That day he'd seen how smart she was. How smart people could be, if they paid attention, took notes, studied. That day was the first day he had said nothing during a lecture because every time he made an attempt at conversation she frowned and shushed him. That day he'd learned something in class.

He'd learned not to talk when sitting next to her.

The day he'd helped her save that lion cub. Which was the first time he'd helped someone without an ulterior motive, without concern for himself. Which was the first day he'd seen more than the brainiac, the green outcast. That day he'd seen she truly was just a girl. She was smart, bitter, sharp, impatient, socially awkward, but she had a softer side. A sweet side. It was the day he'd, for the first time, literally felt a spark when a girl touched him. It was only her hand in his, but it had held more power than Galinda's kisses and her body against his.

The day he'd said goodbye to her without knowing it was indeed goodbye. It was the day he'd planned on telling her…..something.

Anything.

He hadn't planned on it at all. He'd planned on going to the train station with his girlfriend to tell her good luck, see you soon. But then he'd realized that he didn't want to say goodbye with Galinda there. He didn't want to pretend she wasn't more than just Galinda's room mate and the school's very own freak show. That they weren't more than Galinda's room mate and Galinda's boyfriend. That they had their own story now.

That he cared.

About her.

And then he'd realized that he couldn't say goodbye at all without telling her some of that. And then he'd realized he should give her flowers because it was the nice thing to do, because he didn't know what else to give her, because he wanted to let her know, in some way, that he'd been thinking about her. About that lion cub, about her hand in his, about how he wasn't sure about anything anymore. It was also the first time he'd been nervous about meeting a girl.

The day she didn't come back.

He'd gone to the train station to pick them up. He still wasn't sure about anything but he knew he missed them. Both of them. He liked Galinda. She was sweet and fun. He appreciated her friendship, her lightheartedness, her joy in life. Elphaba was prickly and much too serious. Sharp as a tack and entirely too self sufficient.

He appreciated that even more. Because he was starting to become a bit more serious too and he had no doubt that it was because of her. He'd taken to sitting next to her in class, when neither of them were dragged off to sit by Galinda and he'd discovered that when he did, he took notes because she took notes.

And he learned things. He learned things he never knew he never knew, and things he'd never wanted to know. And he learned that when he did, he understood most of the things she was talking about. And he learned that he liked that.

He also learned that it made her nicer to him. And he liked that, too. But then came the day Galinda, now Glinda, got off the train by herself.

Without Elphaba.

And she'd thrown herself into his arms and sobbed and stuttered her way through the story of what and when and why and how. And he'd felt shivers running down his back, goose bumps on his arms and something heavy settle in his stomach that never left after that.

He hadn't known he cared so much about this girl he barely even knew. Now she was gone, his girlfriend was in his arms and he'd found himself wishing, for a split second before his guilt made him banish the thought, that it had been the other way around.

The day he'd decided to join the Gale Force, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to move on.

Galinda, now Glinda, had. At least in part.

She'd learned to smile as if nothing was the matter. As if there had always been only the two of them. The perfect couple. As if there hadn't been somebody in that other bed in her room. As if they weren't missing a limb.

He'd tried. Oz knew he'd tried. He'd tried partying, drinking and partying more. He'd tried studying, which had paid off because he'd passed all his courses in the end, but it didn't work because he saw that empty seat in every class he had.

He'd tried falling in love with Glinda.

He'd tried _not_ being in love with Elphaba.

Because it was the day he'd graduated that he'd known he would not only join the Gale Force, but he'd become the Captain too. He didn't have any other choice. He'd received his diploma, thought of the girl that should have been next to him, right next to him because both their names started with a T, receiving hers and come to conclusion that if she wasn't going to come back, then _he_ was simply going to have to find _her_.

It was that day he'd realized he was in love with her. It had taken him surprisingly long, he knew, to figure that out. But, with her gone, with her no longer around to frustrate, anger, amuse him, it was much harder to see. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people said, and it did. It really did but he was too busy worrying whether she was cold, hungry, alone. Whether she missed him too. Whether he was crazy to miss someone he barely knew _so_ much.

He knew, had known for a very long time, that he was not in love with Glinda. Hadn't been when she'd been Galinda. But he couldn't distinguish very clearly between all these things he felt when he thought about her green room mate. Was it worry, was it friendship, was it anger, betrayal, lust? Was it love? Could that even be?

But then he received his diploma, shook many hands, kissed Glinda on the cheek, walked out the door, went straight to a bar, ordered a drink and let himself realize the truth: he was in love with her. He wasn't sure when that had happened. Too much time had passed for him to be able to pinpoint it exactly but he was. And he had been when she'd left. And she never knew. So, he was going to find her. That was all there was to it. And the best way to do that was to become part of the army whose very purpose it was to find and kill the Wicked Witch of the West. So be it then. He'd joined the same day.

He'd been Captain less than a year later.

The day they'd nearly caught her. He'd only been Captain of the damn Force for a short time when they'd found a lead. A real one.

Or so they said.

Usually, like when he'd still been a soldier, he'd keep his mouth shut if he heard anything and to his relief, and great pain, they'd never actually caught so much as a glimpse. She was too fast, too good, too clever. It made him smile even as his heart broke.

But this time, there were too many rumors of her whereabouts for his men not to hear about it. He didn't know if they were true, didn't know if she was getting sloppy, tired or if she was hurt. He only knew that, as Captain, he was supposed to lead the troops to where she was, to catch her, bind her, gag her. Kill her. That day, he found out how intensely people hated her. They'd always said nasty things about her. His fellow soldiers had never hidden their hatred, their disgust. But now that they felt they were close to actually catching her, they'd been more cruel than before.

The mere thought of victory fueled their hatred and the things they said were so vile, so disgusting that he'd thrown up in the paper waste basked in his office and he'd prayed to whatever power out there that she be safe.

So that day, when they'd stumbled upon their first true clue of her possible whereabouts, he'd gone to the part of town she was supposed to have been spotted and made himself be seen and heard. Left no doubt that he was looking for the Witch. And he'd hoped with all his might that she'd flee. If she was even there.

He never found out if she'd truly been there or not. He only knew he'd sent his men in every direction but the woods and they'd come back empty-handed. And he'd smiled again.

It was that same day that he'd known that there was something he wanted more than to find her; he wanted to protect her. He wanted, more than anything, to keep her safe and he'd snorted at that because only a fool would dream about protecting the Wicked Witch of the West. Only a fool would believe it necessary. But he remembered the girl he'd known at Shiz, and he believed it. And he'd always known he was a fool.

The day Glinda had announced their engagement, when the urge to scream at her had scared him into silence. Because what if Elphaba heard about it? What if she believed it. What if she didn't know he was looking for her. Looking for _her_.

What if he never found her now? And what if he did? What if he found her and he was engaged to Glinda? _Married_ to Glinda?

And that same day he realized that what he wanted more than to find her, more than to protect her, was _her_. He wanted _her_. He _wanted_her. He did not want to marry Glinda, not only because he didn't love her, not only because he was in love with someone else, but because he didn't want to give up the chance at a life with that someone.

Because even though he hadn't seen her in years, nobody had seen her in years, and even though he knew the chances of finding her were slim, he wanted that chance. He'd do anything for that chance. For that possibility. Even if it was just in his head.

The day she'd showed up again.

Which was also the day of his engagement ball. How he'd gotten to the point where he was at his own engagement ball, dancing with his fiance, thinking of another woman, was beyond him. He knew even as he twirled Glinda through the room, that he wouldn't marry her. He didn't know how he was going to tell her, he didn't know when exactly he was going to tell her, but he was going to tell her and he was going to do it soon.

And then...

Then he didn't have to anymore. Because he'd heard the Wizard's cries for his guards and he'd known. He'd known. With every fiber of his being, he'd known. She would be there.

And she was.

Standing by the gleaming pillars, just to the side of that damn huge golden head, was the woman he'd dreamed about and searched for and longed for and yearned for and ached for and _loved_ all these years. And he loved her. He took one look at her and felt his whole world shift. He took one look at her and he'd felt all of his muscles relax.

All the muscles that had been tensed since she hadn't gotten off that train, dropped in relief. Relief that she was alive, that she was there.

That he could see her, nearly touch her. He took one look at her and fell head first in love, all over again.

She was thin, so much thinner than he remembered and her hair was longer and there were lines around her eyes and her dress was torn and she was tired and he saw all that in less than a minute and he'd never seen anyone more beautiful than she was right then.

But they weren't alone and she wasn't safe and he wasn't supposed to be thinking those thoughts, so he silenced her, ignored the jab of pain when he saw the shock in her eyes at his tone and sent his soldiers away in search of water. She said his name again, as if hoping she'd had it wrong the first time but he yelled at her again, not looking at her eyes this time and he'd pointed his gun at the wizard. He had to look at her then. And she looked back and he knew. He looked at her and did what he never thought he'd do once he found her: he told her to run.

She didn't run though. She didn't run, instead she took a step closer to him and he'd felt his insides clench. He took a step towards her and then Glinda came running through the door. And he knew then that he not only wanted to be with her, but he would do anything for that to happen. Including running away from his fiance, on the night of his engagement ball, with his fiance's former room mate and best friend, on the back of a flying broom. And he didn't even stop to regret it.

That same night he'd experienced what it was like to be completely entranced by someone.

He'd been fascinated by her, infatuated with her, obsessed by her and in love with her but he'd done nearly all of that without her around.

Now that she was there, with him, her hands in his, he wasn't sure what to do. It seemed so completely and utterly surreal to be sitting in the middle of a forest, holding her hands in his. And everything he felt...he could only hope she felt it too. He should have doubted that perhaps. Should have wondered, but he hadn't given himself the chance and now that he was there, trying to decipher what she was thinking (and who ever made it up that the eyes were the window to the soul anyway), he felt the realization of it all sink in.

He'd been in love with her for years now, but he'd needed _this._ This physical proof that she was there, was safe, wasn't a figment of his imagination, and the look on her face that meant she felt at least something akin to what he was feeling. He'd needed it to know that he'd made the right choice in joining the Gale Force, in not marrying Glinda.

That night he discovered that there was such a thing as making love. He'd always thought sex was just sex. It was nice and it was even nicer with someone you cared about but it was still just sex. Tonight however, he discovered that a mere look from a woman, if it was the right woman, could render a man speechless. He would never find the words to describe what went through him as she sat down with him and let him undress her.

That night, he'd barely known what to do with himself. He wanted everything but all he could do was sit there and look at her. Look so hard it made her squirm and frown. And then he kissed her because he had to let her know he was only staring for all the right reasons. And then he couldn't stop anymore.

He wanted to, part of him wanted to stop, just so he could continue looking at her, but his body had other plans and he couldn't keep his hands to himself anymore. They kept fluttering around her, down her back, through her hair (Oz that endless hair, he'd _dreamed_about that hair), over her shoulders, down her arms, round her waist.

He couldn't stop. She was breathless and nervous, and he could tell but he couldn't stop. He could tell she was overwhelmed, scared even but he wasn't sure why. Surely, she knew what he felt. What he'd been feeling all these years.

Surely, she _knew_.

Right?

And only then did the thought enter his mind that maybe she didn't know. Because, it might have been clear as day to him, but nobody else had known, had they? Even Glinda hadn't guessed the depth of his feelings for her best friend. So how was she supposed to know? For all she knew, he'd been happily engaged to his long-time girlfriend. As far as she knew, he had absolutely no reason to be here with her, except to catch her.

He pulled on all the brakes, forced himself with every bit of willpower he had left to slow down, sat back on his heels and looked at her face. She was panting, shivering a little, her hair was mussed and her eyes...her eyes were huge. They were looking at him with a peculiar mixture of hope and doubt and anger. As if she expected him to run away any moment now. To come to his senses and call for the Gale Force.

He smiled at that, he couldn't help it. Here was the woman he'd dreamed about, yearned for, for years and she had no clue. Her brow furrowed at his smile and she pulled her hands back from his.

He grabbed on tighter and scooted forward on his knees, till he couldn't possibly get any closer. He brushed her hair back, over her shoulders, pushed it back behind her ears, let his thumb run over her bottom lip, smiled again at her little shiver, and _told_ her.

He told her everything, because she so clearly needed to hear it.

Because she deserved to know. That he had never believed any of the propaganda, that he'd never agreed with Glinda's tactics, that he'd been too stupid, too scared to admit that he'd never loved his blonde girlfriend but had been too much of a damn coward to leave her.

She'd shaken her head at that, her eyes filled with disbelief, words of protest on her lips but he didn't give her the chance, because he had much more to tell her. That he'd only joined the Gale Force to find her. That his sole purpose since he'd left Shiz was to find her.

That he'd missed her.

Oh, that he'd missed her so, so much.

That was in love with her and had been for so long.

And she'd sat there, shaking her head, not even knowing she was doing it, and stared at him. The anger faded, even if only for a short while, to be replaced by something resembling...hope? That maybe he wasn't lying.

That maybe he wasn't going to run back to the palace.

That maybe she wasn't alone anymore.

Because she was lonely, he knew that. She'd been alone for far too long, and not just after she'd left Shiz. He told her everything. And then...she kissed him.

Hesitantly, carefully, unsure of herself, of what she was doing. And he wasn't been able to hold back anymore. The hand gliding through her hair, gripped her shoulders. He cupped her face and kissed her, deeper this time. The hand on her shoulder dropped down, circled her waist and pulled her flush against him. She moaned and gripped his arms, and kissed him back with everything she had.

He pulled back then, panting, needing a moment to get his bearings because it was all too much, too fast, too heady. But she wouldn't have it, she pressed her lips back against his and tugged his despised jacked off his shoulders and in that moment, his fingers already working on the small buttons of her dress, that impossible dress, he'd stopped once again and stared at her.

He asked without asking and at her almost imperceptible nod, he gently pushed her back against the mossy ground, let himself hover over her for a minute, to let her get used to the weight, to give himself some time to breathe, to calm down. He pressed his face against hers, his nose against her cheek and whispered of his love for her. And she whispered back, hiding her face in his neck. And he knew that he wouldn't have stayed with Glinda, even if Elphaba had left him behind.

The day she'd left again, to protect her sister this time. The day he'd understood fully, for the first time, that he would do anything for her.

Anything.

Kill or be killed.

He'd do it.

To keep her alive, he'd do it.

He wouldn't do it blindly, however. People always thought he did things blindly. Dancing through life, following Glinda, running away with Elphaba. He didn't though. He'd danced through life because it was the easy route to take. He'd followed Glinda because he just hadn't known what else to do. He'd run with Elphaba because it was the only thing to do. But none of it was blindly done.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

That was the problem, more often than not. That's why he'd been so unhappy most of the time, as she'd once pointed out so subtly. The early hours of the morning, when she'd left to save Nessa, when she'd refused to take him with her, he'd known that once again, he would do something stupid, and do it knowingly. He would risk his life, and it wouldn't be the sacrifice he might have thought it would be.

Because that same day he'd witnessed an Captain-less Gale Force capture her and threaten her. He'd watched as they'd roughly pulled her arms back and hit her in the face with the back of a rifle. He watched them as they whispered things in her ear, pulled her arms further back until she bit her lip and he knew that he'd kill for her too.

The day he'd woken up on that pole, a scarecrow. And all he could think about, all he could care about was her. And he knew he could accept that he wasn't human anymore, as long as he had her. As long as she had him. As long as it was over now.

The day they'd left the Emerald City behind. When he'd insisted they could never tell anyone, never tell Glinda. He'd walked away from his life, from his parents, from his world, without a glance back. Because even his entire world couldn't compare to a life with her. Because _she_ became his world, the moment she didn't get off that train. And he didn't want it any other way.

It was all her.

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><p><strong>A review would be lovely :)<strong>


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